


the writing on the wall

by exparrot



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Self-Harm, but like normal high school drama, dance competition, dances of LOVE, dirty dancing!au, eating disorder mentions, havana nights!au, mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, more high school drama than riverdale, more to come - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-06-29 23:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exparrot/pseuds/exparrot
Summary: Betty Cooper, fresh off her move to Riverdale's Northside, finds herself trying to win a dance competition, but she needs the help of Southside badass Jughead Jones.With a town splitting in two and family drama on both their sides, will they be able to work together or will they be torn apart as well?





	1. never felt this way

Betty Cooper took in the sights of Riverdale’s Northside, her new home, as she and her family drove through the roads. With a pang, she felt the loss of New York already. The bright lights, the crowded streets, the buzzing energy, while it was often stifling and anxiety-inducing, seemed so much more lively than the life she was about to find in “The town with pep!”

She turned to her right and saw Polly, her older sister, asleep against the car window. She envied her ability to sleep on public transportation, her own fears preventing her. What if the car got hit? What if they rolled? What if someone needed help? Too many hypotheticals to ponder.

But she was also glad Polly was able to rest. Her eyes still looked tired, the bags under them fading slowly, but she seemed more vibrant than before.

Her hands bunched the bottom of her skirt, and she looked out the window again.

The trees stood tall in the forests, dark green and lush, both beautiful and foreboding. 

A local news radio played, talking about some of the 75th annual celebrations happening during the summer. It was the start of the summer, and they apparently had lots of events planned, but she was mostly listening to her recommended mix on her phone’s Spotify.

In the back of the car, the bags were perfectly organized like real life Tetris. Her bags were a soft baby blue with her initials EAC in a royal blue. Polly’s luggage was lavender, with MGC embroidered on hers in an equally royal purple, a matching set. 

Her parents sat in the front. Her mother was reading _Captive_ by Catherine Oxenberg silently, an impressive feat at sixty miles per hour. Her father was driving on the practically empty roads as it got closer to 8 o’clock. Part of her lamented the fact the town already seemed dead, but it was probably for the best.

“I think we’re about ten miles out from our hotel,” Her father informed them, with a smile in his voice. Through the rearview mirror, he made eye contact with her. “Exciting, huh, Betty?”

She faked a smile. “Yes, Dad.” 

“This’ll be a great summer for you kids,” He continued. “A good break, you and your sister work so hard-”

“And there’s still work to do,” Her mother said, looking up from her book. “This is the summer before your senior year, this time is _crucial_. If you want to go to Yale, you’ll have to find an extracurricular to get into in Riverdale.”

She didn’t want to go to Yale, particularly, even though it was her mother’s alma mater. Columbia was more her style, and it would bring her back to New York. But she had a feeling if she voiced it, her attempt at a decision would get decimated until she regretted speaking in the first place.

“You’re right, Alice, but don’t worry, you’ll find something.” He spoke to her, eyes glancing in the mirror. “Just give yourself some time to adjust. It’s a big adjustment, moving,” He said, his tone precise as he shifted his gaze to his wife.

Betty grit her teeth and clenched her fists. At least some parents had the decency to not be so terse with each other in front of her. But she took a deep breath, and reminded herself that it could just as easily be worse.

“I’ll find something,” She reassured her mother, and put the other headphone in, the words of the 1975’s song “Give Yourself a Try” played in her ears.

\+ 

Their room at the Thornhill Inn was lovely. It was a suite, with two rooms, one master for her parents and one for the Cooper sisters, as well as a large bathroom and a living area, with two sofas and a large TV and a fireplace. The furniture was maplewood

Their room was smaller than the master, but it was better than the little motel they stayed at during their road trip. The walls were a soft tan, like pale maple syrup, and the beds were freshly made with little chocolate candies. Betty nearly unwrapped it, but thought of what her mother would say. She tossed it in the trash.

“Now I know why this is the only hotel in town,” Her mother said, eyes scrutinizing the room, scanning for imperfections. “It’s actually quite livable.” For her, that was high praise.

“How long are we staying here?” Polly asked as she started to unpack. 

“We’re not sure, Poll,” Her father sighed as he shifted bags arounds in the living room. He stretched. “For sitting around all day, I sure am sore.” 

“Maybe if you worked out, you wouldn’t have that problem,” Alice said. Betty and Polly shared a look. The last thing they needed was a row between the two of them. 

There was a knock at the door, and Betty straightened at the sound, then nearly sagged with relief. Alice Cooper had one priority in life: keeping up appearances. She wouldn’t fight with a visitor.

“I’ll get it,” She offered, and the youngest Cooper opened the door.

Three people with striking red hair opened the door. One was a man older than her father, with an imposing air that made her want to shirk back. The other was a woman, shorter but no less intimidating. The other was a girl, just about her own age. But she was texting on her phone.

“Hello, Coopers,” The woman greeted. “Can we come in?”

Betty turned back to her parents, seeking an answer silently.

“Yes please come in, Mrs. Blossom,” Her mother plastered on her winning Stepford smile. Betty didn’t recognize the name, and from the confusion on Polly’s face, her sister didn’t either. “Sorry for the mess, we’re just working on getting settled.” 

“Of course, completely understand,” Mrs. Blossom said as the three strolled in, but her eyes still scrutinized everything with the same level of benign contempt her mother had five minutes before. “And please, Alice, call me Penelope.” 

As they came in, Betty moved backwards to stand with her family, and there suddenly came to be a clear line dividing _Blossoms_ from _Coopers_. And she was grateful, but on edge.

“Good to see you, Penelope,” Her mother said the name with the tone someone would greet a tick on their pillow. “Your Inn is quite lovely.” 

“Thank you,” The man finally spoke up. “It’s our family’s pride and joy. Speaking of family, I don’t think we’ve ever met your girls.” His eyes sought theirs, and Betty swallowed tightly, but she forced a winning smile on her face.

Alice placed a hand on Betty’s shoulder, and her manicured peach pink nails dug into the fabric to press into her skin. Betty’s fake smile got tighter. “This is our youngest, Elizabeth Cooper.” With her free hand, she gestured to Polly, who stood in the doorway of their personal room. “And this is our oldest daughter, Maryann, but we call her Polly. She just finished her first year at Syracuse.” 

Of course, no word on how she preferred to go by Betty, but she was oddly fine with the fact the Blossoms wouldn’t know that. It reminded her of old fairy myths: there was power in names, and if the fay knew them, they could bind you with contracts. She didn't precisely remember the legends, but it reassured her nonetheless.

“What adorable girls,” Mrs. Blossom said. “Such nice hair.” 

“Thank you,” The two girls said softly. Before that moment, Betty had never wanted to chop off her hair, but the way the woman stared was so disconcerting, she’d do anything to avert the gaze.

“I’m Penelope, as I said. This is my husband, Clifford, we own this hotel. This is our daughter, Cheryl. She’s going into her senior year at school, is that about your age, Elizabeth?” 

“It is, Mrs. Blossom,” Betty said.

“Please, call me Penelope, there’s no need for formalities,” She said, eyes sparkling with what almost seemed like mischief. 

God, Betty just wanted them to leave. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, or leave with her mother’s hand still an anchor on her shoulder.

“Thanks for the great room, Cliff,” Her father said, words terse and tense. Betty turned to her father, who she could usually count on as being the nice one. 

“Anything for family,” Mr. Blossom said with a smirk. 

Betty’s eyes turned to her father’s and saw his jaw tense and his blue eyes harden to ice. 

“What my husband means,” Mrs. Blossom directed attention to herself, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Is that we treat our guests like family.” Each syllable was clipped. “Isn’t that right, Cliff?” 

The man didn’t speak for a moment. “Yes, dear.”

“Right, Cheryl?”

The girl their age, with the fire-red hair, fire-red nail polish, fire-red dress, and fire-red _everything_ finally looked up from her phone, brown eyes dull with disinterest. “What?”

“Exactly,” Mrs. Blossom recovered. “Cheryl, I’m sure they want to get settled in for bed after a long drive tonight, why don’t you have brunch with the girls tomorrow?”

Betty looked to her parents, silently begging them to get them out of it.

“That sounds lovely!” Her mother smiled, just as sharp as Mrs. Blossom’s, as she finally released Betty. “Does 9:30 work for you?”

“No,” Cheryl said, returning to her texting. “Jason has rowing then.”

“You can have _one_ meal without Jason,” Mrs. Blossom said tersely, then once again redirected to the Coopers. “Jason is her twin brother. They’re practically attached at the hip.” 

Betty rubbed her own elbow, needing the warmth even though it was mid-May. 

“It must be so tough to move at the beginning of the summer,” Mrs. Blossom continued, practically cooing. “It’ll be good for you to meet some upstanding people.” 

At that, Cheryl smiled, looking up from her phone. “Then I should invite Ronnie, she’d love to come.”

“Ronnie as in _Veronica_ Lodge,” Mrs. Blossom clarified.

“Of the New York Lodges?” Her mother said, eyes widening only slightly. “They’re in Riverdale?”

“They moved here at the beginning of the fall,” The other woman said, a smirk dancing on her features. “They’re in our Penthouse suite.”

Betty Cooper had heard of Veronica Lodge, one of the youngest socialites in the City. She put the _Gossip Girl_ characters to shame, and had a little Paris Hilton in her with how much she was on the gossip sites. Mostly it was about her charity work and her fashion, but there were some scandals with her and a few rich boys that sullied her name with her raucous behavior, but it was usually buried a week later by other social news or by the Lodges’ latest charity bash.

She and Veronica never crossed paths, in fact they were in different orbits, even though they were the same age. The Coopers were just upper-middle class, but the Lodges were middle upper class. They went to different high schools, but she heard rumors that Veronica would wear diamonds and pearls to _homeroom_. That just seemed excessive to her.

Plus, the girl always seemed like a bitch, with the charity thing being an act. Her father always said the Lodges were into shady dealings, and the people at her school who ran in her circle always had the wildest stories.

“That’d be great,” Her mother said. “It would be so good for the girls to meet some people around here.” 

“And our Cheryl and Veronica are the best,” Mrs. Blossom said. “We’ll let you get settled and organized. Girls, be at the hotel bistro at 9:30 tomorrow morning. Have a great evening.”

“Wait, here, put in your numbers,” Cheryl handed her the phone, already set on an open text message. Betty easily typed in her number and her sister’s. 

“It was nice to meet you girls,” Mr. Blossom said. 

“Nice meeting you,” Betty lied as parting, and then Blossoms were gone, and she shut the door behind them. When she turned from the door, she saw her father’s hands in fists.

“Those no good, Blossom bastards-”

“For god’s sake, Hal, get it together,” Alice practically hissed. “We’re _stuck_ here in this goddamn town because of you, and these people are some of the richest in town, and they _own_ where we _live_. Put your bullshit aside, or I swear to God, it won’t be pretty.”

Betty and Polly looked to each other, then both turned away. Betty tried to find a way to sneak back to the room so they could hide, but her father just sighed.

“Alright,” He said. “I’ll work on it.”

From the way her mother took a moment to deflate, she could tell she’d expected a fight. “All I ask,” is all she said, and they returned to the master bedroom. “We’ll unpack tomorrow. Be ready for brunch promptly, otherwise it’ll make me look bad.”

_Make her “look bad.”_

Betty nodded and sighed to herself as she turned to her new room. That was always her mother’s biggest concern.

Polly gave her a small smile, but they went to their separate beds and focused on their own unpacking.

Even with her sister right next to her, Betty felt alone.

+

Thornhill Inn’s _Rose’s Thorn Bistro_ was a lovely brunch spot. The colors on the wall were darker brown, much more like maple syrup, white linen tablecloths, and bright red flowers decorated each table.

Neither Cheryl nor Veronica weren’t there in the lobby outside the bistro at 9:30 when Betty and Polly came down, dressed in their nicest cashmere sweaters and slacks (Betty’s combo was a rich blue cashmere closed tight and slate grey pants, while Polly’s style was an open black cashmere over a hot pink tank top and black pants.) 

They went to the host, a tall boy around their age with bright red hair and dark brown eyes. He greeted them with a grin, “Hey, welcome to the Rose’s Thorn, my name’s Archie and I’ll be your host. Table for two?”

“Actually, we’re waiting for Cheryl Blossom,” Betty said, trying to ignore the tingle she felt when she how extraordinarily gorgeous he was, with his toned physique and winning smile.

She saw as the smiled stayed on his face, but it dimmed obviously at the mention of the Blossom Princess.

The night before, Cheryl had texted them both in a group chat the previous evening, saying she’d organized a reservation for the four of them, and that Veronica was excited to meet them.

But he recovered quickly. “Well, awesome. She had a table set up, and it’s right this way.”

Betty and Polly followed as Archie led them to the back of the bistro, where an elegant table sat at least fifteen feet from any other customers. The table was the only one with bright red poppies instead of roses or tulips, and the silverware was intricately decorated and gilded.

“Jesus, what a babe,” Polly whispered as they sat down next to each other. Archie handed them both menus and left two at the other two spots. 

“I’ll grab some waters, but Jughead’s going to take care of you this morning,” He said. “Want to order anything before they get there?” 

Betty and Polly shared a look, and Betty knew the answer. “Nope, we’re okay for now, thank you,” She said, trying to hide her disappointment that not only was Archie not going to be their waiter, but someone named _Jughead_ was. Even though it was illogical, her mind conjured the image of a little four-year-old boy, not someone who could serve them. She wondered briefly if she had just misheard him, and then got distracted by the walls actually having a pattern. If she squinted, she saw tiny roses, which she figured was on brand.

Archie left and quickly came back with a round of waters before going back to the host stand. Soon after, a tall man with dark black hair and dark grey eyes came up to them. There was a lanky leisureliness to him, but he was also muscular, in a more understated way then their host. On his name tag was _Jughead_ with a little sketch of a crown next to it. 

If she got a tingle when she saw Archie, she nearly had a full-blown jolt at the sight of Jughead. He looked refined, in his white button-up and black slacks with a red tie and a red apron, but she thought she saw a tattoo on his shoulder. She’d always had a thing for tattoos, which is why she had two. 

“Hi there,” He said, a smile barely gracing his features, just enough to be customer service adequate, but she didn’t mind. He barely looked at them as he grabbed his notepad. “My name’s Jughead, can I get you anything or are you waiting for others?”

“We’re waiting,” Betty said. “Thank you.”

He looked up from the pad and she felt a stirring in her stomach as he truly saw her, his eyes seeming so surprised at the sight. She had never felt so seen.

“Wait, I’m sorry, ‘Jughead’?” Her sister clarified. “What kind of name is that?”

Betty pursed her lips together, “Oh my god, Polly, don’t be rude.”

But Jughead was smiling, still soft but genuine this time. She expected him to double take at the sight of her sister. She was so much prettier, so much skinnier. But he just looked at her as if she was anyone else, not with the same intrigue he gave her. She felt her face flush at the realization, but hopefully she could pass it off as embarrassment at her sister’s rudeness.

“It’s a nickname,” He explained. “And it’s the kind of nickname when your real name’s even worse.” 

Her imagination buzzed at that, but she liked the mystery more. So she tried not to picture anything, and just let him be Jughead. 

“And I wasn’t being rude,” Polly lightly swatted Betty’s shoulder as she grabbed the menu. “I’m sure he gets that all the time, right, Jughead?” 

“Right, so if everyone does it, that makes it okay? I thought you knew better,” Betty said mockingly, but when her sister flinched, Betty winced in turn. Shit.

Jughead must have sensed something, so he said, “Well, ladies, our specials are banana caramel French Toast, strawberry rhubarb pancakes, and, of course, our maple-stuffed waffles.”

Betty’s mouth nearly watered. Since Polly was off to college, her mother directed all her focus to her youngest daughter, and it meant intense scrutiny on her weight. Betty hadn’t had anything fried in seven months, and she hadn’t eaten chocolate in four. She’d been working out intensely, and eating more healthy things like oatmeal and root vegetables. And she had gone down two sizes, but she missed the basics, like pancakes and chocolate chip cookies.

She was so distracted by the food, she didn’t realize Jughead was talking. “But if you’re waiting for people, no rush. I’ll come back when they get here, but flag me down if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Betty said, smiling at him. He smiled back, again, just a soft one, and then left.

“Is it a requirement to be hot as hell to work here?” Polly asked, playfully fanning herself. “If so, maybe Riverdale won’t be as boring as we thought.”

“If you’re going to be on the prowl, leave me out of it,” Betty said, even as she looked at Jughead as he stood by the host stand, talking to Archie. Curse the tingle. “Boys are just distractions.”

“God, now you sound like Mom,” The elder one said. 

Betty playfully shoved her, “Take that back, bitch!” They were still laughing as Cheryl stood in front of them, wearing the most dazzling, crimson red halter dress with a pleated skirt and black heels, her hair in regal curls down her back.

Beside her was a woman their age (but she exuded more maturity than she felt she did.with gold tanned skin and large brown eyes, wearing a white dress that had to have cost more than her own finest jewelry. 

“Hi,” The other girl greeted with a bright smile. “I’m Veronica. Cher calls me ‘Ronnie’, but whatever works for you. Are you settling in okay?”

Betty and Polly waved. “Hi, Veronica,” Betty said. “I’m Betty.”

“And I’m Polly, and we’re still settling,” She greeted. “You lived in New York, right? You get the culture shock.”

“Oh yes,” Veronica said as the two sat down. “I miss it so much, but Daddy said I can go there in June. It’s been since Spring Break, but it feels like eons.” 

“How does Riverdale compare?” Polly asked. “It looks so small.”

“It is,” Cheryl said with her eyes rolling to the ceiling. “And it’s boring as heaven.”

Betty’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at that phrase, but she was prevented from questioning.

“Hello, are you ladies ready to order?” Jughead came back, notepad flipped out. “Anything to drink?”

She had barely had a chance to look at the menu, and she honestly regretted it when she quickly skimmed it over. The options for breakfast were decadent. Chocolate smothered half the bakery options, and anything else was fried. Her mother’s scrutinizing stare was omnipresent, and she could just imagine if she saw the hotel bill and saw her order.

_Oh Elizabeth_ , she’d exhale the words, disappointment sharpening each syllable, _you’re already looking so chunky, don’t you want to watch your figure? You’re not going to be seventeen forever._

Her fists clenched under the table, eyes no longer focusing on the bright red words on the menu, instead closed in pain as her sky blue nails pierced the skin of her palm for the briefest of moments. The pain returned her to the present, and she used her napkin to wipe the droplets of blood she knew were dotting her skin. But her face revealed nothing.

Cheryl ordered the cherry pancakes with extra maple syrup (“and it better be _warm_ , Caulfield”) and a mimosa, and Veronica ordered similarly with banana caramel French toast with a mimosa. Probably shouldn’t have been possible, but Jughead didn’t card them.

Polly, with her slim figure, ordered berry waffles. Thankfully, she didn’t even have to kick her sister’s ankle to prevent her from ordering alcohol, the words, “Just a seltzer please” leaving her lips unprompted. Betty was proud of her, but that feeling faded when it was time for her to order.

Even being temporarily free from her mother’s watchful eye, she couldn’t bring herself to get the chocolate chip pancakes she desperately craved. Instead, she ordered poached eggs with turkey sausage and whole wheat toast. No potatoes, no pancakes, no chocolate.

But, damn, she wished she could have some.

“You can have some of mine,” Polly whispered, practically reading her mind. She smiled at her gratefully, and returned to the conversation, which ranged from latest fashion trends, to their favorite vines, and then shifted back into Riverdale. 

“Is there anything fun to do in Riverdale?” Betty asked politely. 

“I wish I could say yes,” Veronica said with a light smile. “But, alas, this town can be as dead as a doornail.” 

“Thankfully, Mayor McCoy is planning some events for the next couple of weeks,” Cheryl said, sipping her cocktail. “The town turns 75 this year, so they’ve finally found an excuse to be interesting.”

“But you’ll find things to do when those things aren’t happening,” Veronica reassured. “Sometimes, we have to create our own fun, and that’s the best, isn’t it, Cher?” 

“Damn right,” Cheryl said, her blood-red lipstick spreading into a smile that was almost kind but mostly devious. “We usually get a group to go clubbing in New York.”

“You guys can come with us next time,” Veronica offered. “It’s _so_ much fun.” 

Betty and Polly shared a look. With Polly’s past, that probably wasn’t possible, but they were saved when they heard a slight clattering.

Jughead set their tray on the stand behind her. “Alright,” He said softly, as if mostly to himself. Naming each plate as he placed it in front of each girl, he then added, “Let me know if you need anything-”

“Wait one second,” Cheryl held up a finger, which was almost a talon. She daintily cut into the pancake, poured the serving bowl of syrup onto it, then bit in. She narrowed her eyes at Jughead. “Good enough for now.”

“Thrilled,” Jughead said, just bland enough to avoid sarcasm. 

“Can I get some more water, please?” Betty asked, since she’d downed the last of her ice water to cool the warm feeling in her stomach when he returned. 

“Of course,” Jughead said. “Be right back with that.” He left.

“He’s hot,” Polly said, staring after Jughead’s ass. Betty did as well, but more reluctantly. Even though it was a great butt, it felt weird to stare. She wasn’t one of those girls who felt comfortable doing such a thing. That was always Polly's thing. 

“He’s nearly useless,” Cheryl huffed. “I swear, Daddy says he’s awful at the customer service stuff.”

“He was great to us before you got here,” Betty defended, then bit her lip when she realized why that probably was. Serving the boss’s daughter had got to be stressful.

Veronica bit into her French toast and moaned, “God, this is better than sex. But yeah, Jughead’s cute, but that host- Arty? Archie? I’m into redheads.”

Betty looked at the poached eggs in front of her. It did look lovely, but she looked over at Polly’s waffles. They looked so amazing.

“Then get with me, babe,” Cheryl draped an arm around Veronica’s chair. “They say blondes have more fun, but redheads do it better.”

Polly eyed Betty as well, and slid one of the waffles of the stack of three onto her side plate, then slid the plate over to Betty. 

“Oh no, I can’t,” Betty started to say.

“Shut up,” She warned. 

Betty bit back a smile, and vowed to herself she’d work out at the Inn gym as she took her first bite.

“Oh my god,” She threw her head back with a wild grin. “This food’s amazing. Who’s doing this to me?” She hurriedly took more bites of the delectable waffle.

“The Blossoms don’t half-ass,” Cheryl said obviously.

“I can tell,” Betty said, and gestured with her hand, “This bistro is amazing-”

Her hand hit something solid, and then there was a crash. She felt glass hit her hand and slice her skin and water fall down her back in less than five seconds. 

“Shit,” A male voice said from behind her, and a cursory glance revealed it was Jughead, holding a shattered water glass by the unbroken handle in shock.

“Oh god,” She said, clutching her bleeding hand to her other hand, applying pressure to the gash. “I’m so-”

“You _worthless_ hobo,” Cheryl screeched, causing the other patrons to look their way. “We took a chance on hiring a Southsider like you, and you just earned another strike against you. You’re on thin fucking ice, got it? Ugh, now leave and get someone competent to clean this up.”

The dark-haired waiter said nothing, just turned and left.

“Betty, are you okay?” Polly asked in a panic. “Are you bleeding?”

But Betty stared after Jughead as he disappeared into the back of the bistro. She pushed out of her chair.

“I’m going to get a bandage, I’ll be right back,” She said, and followed after him.


	2. please don't question my devotion

The kitchen bustled with activity. Betty took extra care to keep her hand close to her sweater so she didn’t drip blood on the floor.

People ran around, with a chef barking orders. It was such chaos, but she could tell immediately Jughead wasn’t there.

“Is Jughead here?” She asked the nearest person, and she realized with a jolt it was Archie. “Archie, right?”

His eyes were wide as they landed on her, “Shit, you really got hurt, I mean fuck- _dammit_ , I can’t swear-”

“I’m fine,” She insisted. “Is Jughead still here?”

Archie pursed his lips, “Yeah, he’s in the alley, but don’t go back there.”

“I need to apologize,” She said and made her way to the back of the kitchen where Archie gestured.

The door was propped open with a brick, and she pushed it open.

“I’m sorry, Jughead,” A new male voice was saying as she stepped out. “It’s going to come out from your paycheck, and if she sues, I can’t protect you from a lawsuit.”

“I’m not going to sue,” She spoke up, causing two heads to whip in her direction.

One was Jughead, the other was a man twice their age, with a narrow face and dark ruddy brown hair. “Excuse us, ma’am, you’re not supposed to be back here.”

“I know,” She spoke quickly. “But I needed to talk to Jughead.”

The man turned to Jughead, who nodded brusquely. “It’s fine, Mr. Andrews. Can I have a minute?”

The man, Mr. Andrews, pursed his lips, but nodded as well. “You have five.” And then he left them both in the dirty alleyway.

“I don’t want to sue,” Betty reiterated. “I’m actually here to apologize for Cheryl, she shouldn’t have said anything about that. And it’s my fault, I hit the pitcher. Let me pay for it.”

He said nothing for a moment, then his eyes flicked over her as if appraising her, stopping her chest. She recoiled slightly, not expecting that from him, but then he reached into his apron and pulled out a cloth napkin.

“It’s clean,” He reassured. “You should have something to staunch the blood.”

“Thanks,” She said softly, taking it. Her cheeks flushed, realizing he was staring at her obvious wound that she was holding just above her heart. She shouldn’t have assumed. She placed pressure, but didn’t wince. She was accustomed to pain.

“You don’t have to pay for it either, I should’ve paid attention,” He said, his large hands going for his hair.

“Well, I’m still paying for it,” She insisted. “And I’m stubborn _and_ a guest, so you have to listen to me.” 

His lips tilted in a slight smirk, but then it fell. “I don’t think I can let you.”

“Was that man your boss?” She asked. “I’d be happy to tell him the same thing.”

Almost as if he heard them, Mr. Andrews came back holding a first aid kit. “Are you alright, ma’am?” 

“It’s Betty,” She said. “And I’m fine. Thank you.” But she took the first aid kit to dig in and grab some bandages and Neosporin. “It’s just a cut, one that was totally my fault so you have to let me pay for it.”  


Mr. Andrews eyed her warily, but a kind wariness, like he wasn’t sure if he could believe what he was seeing. “Are you really insisting?”

Betty pulled out her wallet, “How much was it?”

“One hundred dollars,” The man answered.

Betty’s knees nearly buckled, but that might have been because Jughead was touching her. His hands were fixing up her cut, cleaning it gently with antiseptic before closing it with a butterfly bandage. The pain was nothing, the jolt she felt when he touched her was infinitely more powerful. 

She had 200 dollars cash with her, and 500 more in the bank. The rest she had in her college fund account, a hidden savings account in case her mother refused to pay if she didn’t go to Yale. It didn’t have much, but she’d hope to get scholarships.

She took out the cash and handed it to him. “It wasn’t Jughead’s fault,” She said once more. “If you don’t mind, I’m going back to my brunch.” She turned to the dark-haired waiter. “Thanks for fixing me up.”

“Anytime,” He said, his voice low and almost rough. “And I’m sorry.”

Betty took a deep breath, and forced herself back to the brunch table.

“Jesus, Betty!” Polly reprimanded, standing up to hug her sister. “Are you okay?”

“Totally fine,” Betty took a deep breath. “Now, can we please talk shopping? Where do you even shop around here?” She asked with feigned interest, knowing it would spark conversation.

Polly gave her a look, but turned back to Cheryl and Veronica, who could not be more enthused with the new topic.

Betty touched her bandage as they talked, and thought of the way Jughead’s fingers danced on her hand as he dressed her hand.

+

Betty collapsed on a park bench and put her chin in her palms, then her elbows on her thighs. Her mother’s words about “utilizing this summer to its full potential” were weighing her down, as well as the disastrous search she’d been having to find an extracurricular to do. Everything in the Northside was taking by ambitious people who’d been there longer than her. It sucked.

One week at Riverdale and she was still a failure. Her father got a job at the mechanic’s, her mother got a freelance consulting job at Riverdale’s newspaper, and Polly got a job at the hotel’s pool as a lifeguard. She had nothing to show for her efforts, and that infuriated her to the bone.

She’d also been meticulously avoiding the bistro. 

“Well hello there,” A female voice spoke up, and Betty looked up to see a dark-skinned girl with bright pink ombre hair approach her. She had one of those faces, anywhere between 15-28. She wore a white t-shirt with pink flannel over and leather pants with a snake patch on the thigh, even though it was nearly 80 degrees. There was something to admire about that.

“You look like you need to punch something,” The woman said, sitting down but giving enough space in case Betty was about to tell her off.

“Are you offering your services?” Betty quipped before wincing. The girl hadn’t been rude at all, but she was already threatening violence.

Luckily, the other girl laughed. “I don’t think I could take you, Blondie,” She snickered. “But I appreciate the gumption. I’m Toni, Toni Topaz.” 

“Betty Cooper,” Betty introduced herself, resisting the urge to stick out her hand. Toni didn’t strike her as someone into formalities. 

“Betty Cooper, huh?” She said, causing Betty to cock her head in confusion. Before she could question that, Toni barreled on. “What are you doing in the Southside?”

Betty looked around, ponytail whipping back and forth, then pointed down at the grass. “This is the Southside?” 

From what she’d heard from Cheryl, the other Blossoms, the southern half of Riverdale was a Mecca of gang activity, with broken down buildings that the townspeople who lived there abusedthem regularly in order to cause higher taxes for Northsiders. Mr. Blossom practically had a whole Ted Talk about it, which she and her family was forced to listen to at dinner.

“Yep,” The other girl said, draping herself over the bench. “Well, kinda. This is more of an in-between for the two sides, but there’s a better park way north of here, so that’s where they go. This one’s for us.”

Betty looked around at the park, saw the kids running around, having a blast. Some were playing soccer, some were chasing each other on the equipment, some were just sitting around, but they all looked like they were happy. 

“Get down from that!” Toni shouted. Betty looked over to see a young kid jump down from a tree branch with a cackle.

Toni sighed and pushed the hair out of her face. “I’m a camp counselor,” She explained. “Otherwise the kids go into gangs, and we try to wait until they’re at least 17.”

Betty’s eyes widened, and Toni smirked again. “Kidding. Kinda. We’re just trying to help.”

“That’s lovely,” Betty started to say, and then furrowed her brow. _That’s lovely_. God, she sounded like her mother. 

But she didn’t want to be like her. She thought of the way her mother would probably sneer with disdain as she surveyed the park, the missing patches of grass, the beat-up plastic of the equipment, and the fact it was the _Southside_. It would make her look bad in comparison, she knew her mother wouldn’t stand for it.

Her head shot up, _she_ could.

“Do you need anymore volunteers?” Betty asked, before she could regret it. 

Toni turned to her, the only evidence of surprise in her raised eyebrows. “Really? You want to volunteer?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Nope. Just, we don’t get Northsiders around here, especially ones who want to help us,” Toni said.

“What makes you so certain I’m a Northsider?” Betty demanded.

Toni laughed, “Gee, you mean besides everything? The cashmere sweater, the fact you looked terrified for your wallet when I told you were in the Southside, and my friend Jughead mentioned you.”

“You know Jughead?” She asked, straightening.

“Yeah,” She said. “We’re in a…” She smirked before she continued, “A club together.”

“Is his job alright?” She asked. “I did my best to make sure he wasn’t fired, but-”

The other girl gave Betty a look before she snorted, which caused her to cut off. “Yep, you’re just as Jughead said. And the bastard’s fine. Back to the point, yeah, we can definitely use some volunteers. Are you good at anything?”

“That’s a loaded question,” She answered, causing Toni to laugh. “I’m really interested in journalism. And a newspaper can teach kids discipline and verbal skills. Do you guys have the facilities for a paper we can use?”

“Just _The Red and Black_ ,” Toni answered. “It’s Southside High’s newspaper, and it’s barely funded during the school year, so no dice. Anything else?” 

“Hmm,” Betty pondered. “Well, I can dance. Do you guys need an athletic activity?” 

Toni gasped, “That’s perfect, we need the little jerks to get their energy out. A dance class would be perfect _and_ educational. What kind of dancing do you know?”

“I know ballet, salsa, contemporary, tango, and waltz. And Zumba, if that counts.”

“Oh god, you’re a godsend,” Toni sighed. “They're driving me up the goddamn wall. Not that the aforementioned statement should sway you.”

“It might,” Betty drawled drolly.

“They’re good kids,” Toni said with a fond smile. “They can just be much, but I know you can help- Jesus Christ, Johnny, get off that fucking bird feeder or I’ll tell your mom!” She whipped around to shout at them as Betty recoiled at the loud noise. “I’ll be with you until they get adjusted to you when you start teaching them,” She offered, immediately reverting to her casual conversation with her. “They respect me.”

“Then why is he already in the bird feeder again?” Betty asked. 

“Oh goddammit!” Toni ran off. 

Betty hid her laughter and waited patiently until Toni came back. “Okay,” The pink-haired girl said, a bit out of breath. “I obviously can’t take my eyes off them.” She rattled off a number then said, “Text me. And we’ll figure something out. ‘Kay?”

“Okay, good luck,” Betty offered, and Toni laughed as she ran back to the park.

She smiled to herself as she left. It might not be a job, but volunteer work always looked good on college applications.

_Columbia here I come._

+

Betty walked up to the doors of Southside High’s gym, one propped open with a brick. 

Betty wore a more toned down workout outfit than the intense Lululemon stuff. Even as the heat started to tick up, she refused to not wear anything with long sleeves for her shirt or anything that didn’t hit her knees. She couldn’t risk her parents seeing her tattoos. 

But she also knew she’d be working out with the kids, so she didn’t want to seem too formal. So she threw on a long-sleeve pale pink shirt she got from a breast cancer fund marathon she did with Polly and her mother when things were a bit more normal in her family, and then black capri workout pants. 

When she got there, Toni was standing there in a baggy shirt with the sleeves cut off, a tattoo of a snake wrapped around a bright pink cupcake, about half a foot long on her bicep, on full display. 

They’d added each other on Instagram and Facebook, and Facebook revealed that Toni was a rising junior at Southside high. The tattoo laws must have been just as relaxed in Riverdale as they were in New York. 

“That’s an amazing tattoo,” Betty said as a greeting. 

Toni turned to face her and smiled. “Thanks, cupcakes are my fave food.”

That didn’t necessarily explain the snake, but if Toni wasn’t offering it up, it wasn’t her business. 

“Am I here on time?” Betty asked anxiously, she thought she’d gotten there early enough to set up.

Toni pulled out her phone and checked, “Ten minutes early. I was just so done with them that I couldn’t deal with them anymore so I brought them by.”

“What kind of music do they typically like?” Betty asked, pulling her phone from her pocket to check her Spotify. She had segmented her music into clear playlists depending on her mood or a dance style. 

“Ask ‘em,” Toni suggested, and pulled her inside. 

The gym was overrun with a group of around thirty little kids, anywhere between ten through maybe fourteen of various races. They all wore bright red shirts, designating them members of SOUTHIE SUMMER CAMP. 

Toni shoved Betty in front of the mob and whistled, shoving her fingers into her mouth. Betty always wondered how to do that. The sharp sound drew their attention, and even quieted most of them.

“Hello, kids,” Toni greeted.

“Hi Miss Toni!” They shouted, some silent, just scrutinizing her. 

“I want you all to meet my friend, Miss Betty,” Toni greeted. “Miss Betty is going to teach you all how to dance, so I want you _all_ to pay attention to her and listen to what she is. Understand?”

They all nodded. 

Betty stared at them all silently until Toni gave her a shove. “Hi, I’m Miss Betty.” 

“We _know_ ,” One boy with a mohawk said. “Miss Toni _just_ said that.”

“Well, she’s saying it again,” Toni said. “Be quiet, Tucker.” 

A couple people snickered.

Betty just straightened her shoulders. “How many have you have taken a dance class before?”

Only five of them raised their hands.

“Can you stand and tell me which kinds?”

The five stood, and their answers were mostly “salsa” but one said “hip hop.” 

“Alright, good starts,” She said, gears turning in her head. Maybe she would start with salsa. “How many of you dance when you’re alone, or with friends?” She asked.

All of them raised their hands.

“Awesome, dancing is supposed to be fun,” She told them. “We’re going to start off with some salsa basics, and we’ll see how you like it. If not, we’ll move on. All I ask is that you pay attention and try your best, okay?”

“Okay,” They said. 

“I think Miss Toni should join us, don’t you class?” Betty enticed. They cheered. She had a feeling they’d be more receptive if they saw a trusted figurehead joining them.

Toni sent her daggers with her eyes, “I don’t, class.”

“Maybe if we say ‘please’ she’ll want to,” She responded.

“Please!” They called.

Toni smiled reluctantly, “Just for this one, Cooper.” 

“Perfect! Alright, for Salsa basics, it’s important to start with steps. If you can walk, you can salsa. I’m going to show you first, then you’re going to copy me.”

Deliberately, Betty stepped forward with her right food, keeping light on the balls of her feet, and then stepped backwards with her left foot. “Super simple, right? You try it.” 

With them, she danced the basic step. “Awesome! Let’s do it one more time.”

After they stepped, looking a bit bored, she said, “'Kay, now we’re going to add some flair. Move your hips a little with the step. Salsa’s bouncy, you’re light on your feet. Watch,” She did it again, this time adding more of a shimmy to the steps. “Your turn.” 

They tried it, some of them giggling with the fact their butts with more involved. “This is fun,” She heard one whisper and Betty tried to hide her smile to stay professional. 

She kept teaching them different steps in different directions, then started playing salsa music, or at least salsa-inspired, so they listened to the J Balvin, Willy William and Beyonce song “Mi Gente” and used the steps to the beat of the song.

Some of them started to throw in their own moves, like using their arms, or spinning. It was so much fun to watch them open up.

Before she knew it, the class was over, and Betty had to return to the Northside. 

“Do you really gotta go?” Johnny asked.

Betty exhaled slowly. “Yes,” She said. “But I’ll be back tomorrow,” She promised before she realized what she was doing.

The kids cheered, and Toni gave her a look.

“Already eager to get back?” Toni hummed pensively. “I think we’re stuck with you.”

Betty smirked, “You must be. But not right now, I got to go.”

“See you tomorrow,” Toni said. “Text me if you ever need a ride. Thanks for making me get off my ass.”

“Will do, and anytime.”

“Say goodbye to Miss Betty.”

“Bye, Miss Betty!” They called after her. She waved, and went to the bus stop to wait for the route that will take her back to the Northside.

She took a deep breath and smiled to herself.


	3. I swear it's the truth

Betty’s first week with the program was done, and it was getting easier and more fun with each visit. The kids were off-the-walls rambunctious, but that was honestly kind of fun. They all called her “Miss Betty” and loved learning to dance. They kept asking if she could find more time to join them, and she promised to work on it. 

They stuck with the basics of salsa, and they were trying to figure out partner work. They were mostly pre-teens, so the opposite sex was a bit icky, but she let them dance whoever they felt most comfortable with, and they loved the autonomy.

Toni went to each of the four lessons that happened over the week, helping her lecture the kids and dance with them when necessary, but she admitted to Betty over Snapchat that the dancing was kind of fun. So she was thrilled.

But she had to put that part of her aside, because it was family dinner night.

For the past two weeks she’d been in Riverdale, she’d mostly managed to avoid her parents, and unintentionally avoid her sister. Betty had been exploring both sides of The Town with Pep, the Northside with Veronica and sometimes also with Cheryl, and the lone coffee shop of the South Side with Toni. She’d even been to the library on her own, or to restaurants with her sister. She had been worried this place was boring, but she'd been having fun so far. 

Her mother had probably realized she’d been unable to dig her claws into her family and gather information, so she stipulated they must all attend dinner that Friday night. 

Betty showered after her dance class as she taught them salsa to a Zumba song “La Maraca” that she loved, and brushed her hair. She didn’t wear makeup when she danced with the kids, but she knew that wouldn’t be okay in the presence of the Coopers, so she painted on foundation and skillfully applied her soft pink lipstick, putting on enough so it looked like nothing. But Alice Cooper would be able to tell, and would hopefully approve.

She stepped out to the living room area of their suite, and saw it was just her mother and father sitting there. Keeping her fake smile plastered on, she sat down.

“Hello,” She greeted. 

“Hi, Elizabeth,” Her mother greeted, then cocked her head. “Is that what you’re wearing?” 

Betty looked down at her gray long-sleeve t-shirt and capri jeans that went past her knees.

“You look great for a family dinner,” Her father said. “We just picked up takeout from the bistro.”

“This kitchen can’t handle my cooking prowess,” Alice said, hooking a finger to the suite’s little kitchenette. “And the bistro is good enough, I suppose.” 

“I like their food,” Betty offered as her mother placed a plastic takeout container in front of her. She opened it to see a salad. She sighed but kept her mouth shut otherwise.

Thankfully, that’s when Polly came in. Her hair was wet, her hair tinted a bit green from chorine, and she wore a large t-shirt that came past her torso down her legs with terrycloth pants.

“Sorry I’m late,” Polly said as she sat back down. “Jason was late to his shift so I had to cover.”

“The Blossom boy was late?” Hal scoffed. “Figures.”

“He had an emergency, Dad,” Polly said, almost curt. Betty’s eyebrows raised. It’d been a long time since Polly had talked back to their father. Their mother? Constantly. Their father? A rarity. “It was fine, I didn’t mind covering.” 

“How is lifeguarding, Polly?” Their mother asked as they all joined Betty at the table. 

Polly opened up her takeout. To Betty’s chagrin, her sister had a grilled chicken sandwich and sweet potato fries. She would have killed for those fries. 

“It’s fantastic,” Her sister said as they all started to dig in. “The pay is great, I’m so glad I got CPR certified back in New York, I was able to get started a lot sooner than otherwise. The other lifeguards are very nice, and so far there have been no incidents.”

Betty, a bit superstitious, rapped her knuckle on the cherrywood table while her other hand pushed the salad around with her fork. “Knock on wood.”

“Knock on wood,” Polly said with a smile. “But yeah, it’s pretty nice.”

“That is so impressive,” Alice said. “Betty, are you doing anything with your summer?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Betty said. Her hand fell under the table so she could dig her nails in. She was able to take a deep breath once the skin was punctured. She strengthened her fake smile. “I’m volunteering with kids.”

“That’s awesome, Betty!” Polly said, but something in her eyes showed she was hurt that she hadn’t told her yet. 

“That’s lovely,” Her father offered.

But Alice’s eyes narrowed, “And where _exactly_ are you volunteering, Elizabeth?” 

“The southside of Riverdale,” Betty said. 

Her father choked. Betty jumped in surprise. Alice absently smacked him on the back. “You should have gotten permission,” Her mother said. “That’s a very dangerous area. Do you know the kind of criminal activity they all get up to down there?”

“That’s why the kids need help,” Betty kept her voice cool. “I promise, I’m not in danger.”

“Famous last words,” Alice muttered.

“We trust you to take care of yourself,” Her father offered, coughing slightly. “Just please be careful.”

“I promise,” Betty said. 

“How are you volunteering?” Polly asked.

“It’s a summer camp for kids, and I’m teaching them different dances.”

“At least you’ll be exercising,” Her mother seemed genuinely relieved.

Betty stabbed her salad with her fork, and wished it was french fries. She tuned out the rest of the conversation, until her parents started talking about Riverdale’s summer festivals.

“We’ve been talking with Mayor McCoy,” Her mother name-dropped. “Both in the professional capacity as writers of the newspaper, but we’ve also gotten to know her well. She told us that the Fourth of July Festival will have a preliminary dance competition, then top-three dancers go to the Capital to compete.”

“Solo dancers?” Betty asked. “That might be fun.”

“Oh, you’re not equipped for a competition like that,” Her mother cooed. “And besides, it’s pairs.” 

Betty dug her nails into her palms again until the pain stopped, but it didn’t work. It just added a louder pain.

+

That night, Betty and Polly laid down in their beds, in their silk pajamas. The lights were off, the two sisters didn’t speak.

Until Polly did.

“Why didn’t you tell me you got the volunteer thing?” 

Betty turned over to face her sister. “It wasn’t a conspiracy, Pol,” She smiled, hoping it came through in her voice. 

But Polly didn’t turn over either, and Betty’s smile fell. When they were little and had to share a room, they’d always face each other when they shared stories and dreams. In the light of the moon, she’d feel bright with her sister, when her mother made her feel dim. 

And when they got their own rooms, whenever Betty couldn’t sleep or she needed someone to talk to, she knew she’d always go to her sister. Then something emotionally sliced through her chest, she couldn’t think of a singular time she’d done the same for her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Betty said. “It kind of happened out of nowhere, and I didn’t know how to tell Mom and Dad.”

“I wouldn’t have told them,” The elder Cooper sister said, and then she turned over to face her. Betty’s relief was palpable. 

“I know, I just didn’t know how to say it anyway,” She admitted. “But how about you tell me about lifeguarding! How is it?”

Polly finally smiled. “It’s amazing! So far, nothing’s happened, knock on wood, but all the other guards are so nice.”

“Jason Blossom’s one right?”

“Yes, he is. I know he was late today, but he’s great, especially with the kids. He also teaches beginner swimming.”

“Aw,” She cooed. “Do you think you will?”

Polly scoffed, “God, can you imagine me with kids? A disaster. I think you got the genes for that there.”

“How’s that possible in this family?” Betty joked without really meaning to. And the energy in the room instantly dimmed. “God, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not wrong,” Her sister said, voice soft. “The other lifeguards are good too,” She thankfully changed the subject. “Jason’s the only teacher of the kids, but this one guy, Reggie Mantle, he helps the old people do aquarobics. He’s kind of a dick, but he has his moments. And there’s also a Midge Klump, she’s a sweetheart.” 

“I’m so glad,” Betty said. She bit her tongue, worried about the words that would spill out. But after the “friends” her sister had made in New York, she was glad she finally had some good ones.

“I hope you meet some nice people at your dance classes,” She said, finally turning back over, but not in dismissal. Sleep clouded her voice, and she knew her sister was just tired.

“I hope so too,” She said, and turned over as well. “Night, Pol.”

“Night, Betty.”

+

Betty stepped up to the Southside High Gym over an hour early for the dance class on Thursday, her third that week. She couldn’t resist the decent sound system and the hardwood floors, and decided early on she’d use the empty space for some special solo dance practicing. She stripped off her cropped sweatpants and ripped sweatshirt, which had made her look a bit like Alex Owens from _Flashdance,_ leaving her in just cropped tight black workout pants and a sports bra underneath and her beat-up ballet slippers that were a bit past their prime. She liked to be as free as possible when she did ballet, and ballet was one of the few times she ever felt sexy. For once, it helped her to take off her clothes, and let her just focus on herself. 

She looked at her phone and turned on a timer for thirty minutes, which would give her plenty of time to put her clothes back on and get ready for the Ballet 101 lesson with the kids. 

After pulling her hair into a tight bun that pulled at her scalp in a familiar way, she put on her Lisa Harris playlist and worked on her first, second, third, fourth, and fifth positions to go over with the kids. She wouldn’t go too intensive, since ballet required consistent, vigorous practice at a young age to shape the bones. 

Her consistency of ballet had waned over the past year. Her mother wanted her to focus on aerobics and cardio, so she had to give up a lot of her ballet rehearsals. But when she couldn’t sleep, she’d sneak down to the basement and practice the steps she remembered. 

The music flowed through her and she abandoned specific positioning to go into the graceful moves she’d once mastered.

Her body didn’t curve as well as it used to, and she couldn’t stay on pointe for as long, but it felt so good to move around in a way she hadn’t in ages. 

Feeling more limber, she moved to a song that always made her think of dancing ballet passionately, Sia’s “Breathe Me.” It was more of contemporary song, but it just made her think of this fragile beauty that seemed to encompass all of ballet, and she loved to dance to it when she was alone.

She threw her body into the movements, getting so completely engulfed that it wasn’t until she completed three spins near the end of the song that she noticed there were two people in the doorway watching her.

Betty stumbled over herself in surprise. “Oh god,” She said, mostly to herself, as she grabbed the sweatshirt and threw it over herself to hide her stomach. She squinted to look at the two figures, one was very tall and one was very short, but she couldn’t tell much else because the summer sun turned them into a silhouette. She pulled it on quickly, “Sorry, I thought I’d be alone.”

“Hi, Miss Betty!” A familiar voice Betty recognized as “JB”, a 12-year-old who wanted to learn every kind of dance there was. She also always had a dark gray beanie on her head, with a tiny pink bow on the top, and it was prominent over her dark black hair. “Are we doing that in class today?” She asked as she and the other figure stepped forward.

With wide eyes, she saw Jughead in the fluorescent lights of the gym, looking so different from his style at Rose’s Thorn Bistro, which should have been obvious since he was in a uniform before. 

His normal clothes were much more badass. A dark blue flannel wrapped around his waist, black t-shirt, and black skinny jeans with rips in them made him look rugged in a way that nearly made her swoon. But she blamed it on spinning. Even though she kept her gaze perfectly focused on her “spot” on the far side of the gym. 

“Um,” Betty panted a little from her routine, forcing herself to just say _something_. “No, we’re doing the basics. But I can show you this later, if you want.”

“Please!” JB said. “It’s so pretty, isn’t it, Jug?” 

Jughead, who’s bright gray-green eyes had been staring at her, said, “Sure is, Jellybean.”

“Jellybean?” Betty asked, fingers fiddling with the edges of the sweatshirt. “Is that what JB is short for?”

JB made a face, “Yes, but only he gets to call me that, so don’t get any ideas.”

Betty laughed and held up her palms placatingly. “Can do.”

Jughead elbowed her in the side, and JB said, “Oh yeah, right, Jughead, this is Miss Betty, the dance teacher for the camp. Miss Betty, this is my big brother, Jughead.”

“We’ve met,” Jughead said. “She’s the customer I maimed at work.”

JB’s eyes went wide, but Betty laughed. “It was a light maiming, don’t worry.” Betty held up her healed hand. “See, all gone.” 

The young girl rushed over and took the offered hand. She studied it. “You’re still an idiot,” She told her brother.

Betty bit back a smile. 

Jughead stepped up a bit, hands in his pockets. “Thanks again for covering the pitcher.”

“It was my fault, so I was happy to,” Betty reiterated. 

“So you’re also the effervescent Miss Betty,” He practically hummed. “Well, my sister’s a big fan.”

“I’m a big fan of hers, she’s so enthusiastic to try everything.” 

Jughead nodded. “Well, I know I’m already indebted once, but can I ask another favor?”

“Of course.”

“I’m dropping her off before I head to work, but our dad’s picking her up. Mind waiting around with her until he does? He should only be half an hour late.”

“I’d be happy to, plus I can show her the dance routine,” Betty offered.

“Yes!” JB fist-pumped in the air. “Now get out of here, Jug, I won’t let you be late for work so you could talk to a pretty blonde.”

Jughead rolled his eyes to the ceiling with a smirk while Betty tried to hide a blush. “Have a fun class, Jellybean. Nice seeing you again, Betty.” And then Jughead took off the way he came in.

“I know he’ll probably kill me for saying this,” The girl said as she leaned a bit to look through the doors as Jughead crossed them. “But you’re just as cute as he said.”

Betty couldn’t stop her blush there, but she was at least able to offer up a distraction. “Want to practice salsa dancing as partners?”

“Yes, please!” 

After the dance class, Betty didn’t have to rush back to the Northside since her parents were more aware of her location. And she liked sticking around the area more than she’d assumed she would. 

She was tying up her shoes, letting JB put a braid in her hair as she waited for Toni to give her a ride and for the younger girl’s father to show up. The class’s actual dancing exhausted JB and she decided to be shown the choreography at a later date.

“So, I’m going to this club this Saturday,” Toni said, stretching out on her back on the gym floors as kids cleared out. “Want to come with me? Even though your kickass dancing will make me look bad.”

“Swear Jar,” JB said, and Toni took out a quarter and gave it to JB. 

She was about to say no, because she could imagine the Alice Cooper Explosion if she found out, but then remembered her parents were spending the weekend at a journalism conference in upstate New York.

“I’d love to,” Betty said. “Sounds like fun.”

“It should be,” Toni said with a devious smirk. “I’ll make sure of it. It’s called the Viper’s Bite, and it’s deep in the Southside. I’ll text you the address.”

“Sounds good,” Betty said as a car horn honked.

JB leapt up, “That’s my dad! Bye, Miss Toni, bye, Miss Betty!” The girl took off like a bullet.

Betty turned to Toni. “She only did half of my hair,” She pointed to the half of her hair that was unbraided, limp across her shoulders.

Toni laughed and helped her take apart the remaining braid gently. “I’ll see you at nine on Saturday. Look sexy,” She winked. “C’mon, let’s get your highness home.” Toni jumped up, then reached for Betty’s hands.

“If you want to see royalty,” Betty extended her hands and let Toni pull her off the ground. The walked to Toni’s beat-up Subaru. “You should meet my friend, Cheryl.”

“Northsider?” Toni checked. At Betty’s nod, she said, “I don’t like Northsiders.”

Betty just gave her a look. The Southsider laughed, “You don’t count.”

“Aww,” Betty cooed and reached over to give her a hug.

“I’ll leave your pale ass here, Blondie, I swear to God,” Toni threatened, but Betty just held on tighter. 

She was glad to be an exception.

+

Betty, after thoroughly googling prospective club outfits, realized with a start that she had nothing to wear. All her clothing was modest, nothing was translucent or cropped and cut into artfully. She might have to get help.

For a moment, she considered asking Polly, but it might bring her sister back into the alcohol spiral, and she couldn’t do that to her. Not for something this insignificant. 

She definitely couldn’t ask her parents for shopping money, because they’d have questions. 

With a sigh, she took the elevator to the top floor and knocking on the door. 

Veronica opened, wearing a silk robe with her hair in a loose updo. “Hey, Betty-”

“I’m going to a club and I need your help with an outfit, can you please help me?” Betty blurted. 

“How delectable,” Someone said, and Cheryl appeared out of nowhere from inside Veronica’s penthouse. She was dressed in a pale pink nightgown, holding a glass of wine. “Boring little Betty going to a club. And without _moi_?” 

Betty sighed, “Hi, Cheryl.”

“Where’s the club?” The red-haired demon asked. 

Betty couldn’t bring herself to lie, she needed their style advice. “It’s in the Southside. Viper’s Bite? The girl I work with invited me-”

If she expected major drama at associating with Southsiders, she was sorely mistaken.

“Ooh, a Southie party,” Veronica shimmied her shoulders gleefully. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Cher?”

“Too long,” Cheryl agreed. 

“Well, can we come?” Veronica asked.

She couldn’t imagine Toni would care. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Scrumptious,” Veronica practically purred. “So you need an outfit? Easy, you can borrow one of mine. OMG, I know the perfect one!” 

“Are you sure it can fit her?” Cheryl asked with a raised eyebrow over her wine glass.

As Betty’s fingers poised to break her own skin, Veronica threw a decorative pillow at her friend. “Don’t be a bitch. I know it will fit, Betty.” She reassured then stepped to a small room and pulled out a black dress. She could barely tell how it would fit on her, and she knew the other girl would be at _least_ another size smaller- 

“There’s the bathroom, try it on,” Veronica insisted, and then shoved her in. 

Left in the bathroom in her long-sleeved blue shirt and jeans, she forced herself to try on the dress. 

She was surprised when it zipped up completely, even when it tugged a bit at her breasts and cut down pretty short on her legs, the only real length of the skirt being added by a black lace strip that skimmed her mid-thigh. It forced her to hug her legs together, but not in a way that made it uncomfortable. 

She studied herself in the mirror. The dress was objectively amazing, the fabric soft and dark. The neck was a sharp V that revealed her cleavage without revealing too much, and the sleeves went past her elbows, but her forearm tattoo was on full display. If she craned her neck to study her back, most of the white planes of her skin was bare without being too aggressive. With a sigh, she took off her bra, because it just didn’t work with the outfit. Thankfully, the cups of the dress held her up and covered herself in case it got cold.

She swallowed tightly at the idea of being caught in this outfit, but hopefully her parents would be definitely gone for at least the whole night at the Correspondents’ Dinner. She stepped back into her own shoes, little black booties with an inch heel, that would hopefully work. They’d be conservative, but comfortable.

“Hurry up, Betty!” Cheryl shouted through the door. “Veronica and I are already dressed!”

That caused her to make a face, and she opened the door. “No way-” She started to stay, but stopped dead in her tracks. 

Both Cheryl and Veronica were dressed, only missing hair and makeup that would make them more stunning. 

Veronica wore a sparkly plum dress that had two pieces. One was the top part the cut to just under her breasts with long sleeves, and a skirt that revealed her golden legs on three-inch black heels. There was a strip in the middle of her torso in a solid line that showed her tan, flat stomach.

Cheryl looked equally gorgeous with a translucent black shirt, with a silver bustier underneath, with a bright red leather skirt and red heels that had to be four inches high. 

“Betty!” Veronica squealed. “You look amazing. C’mon, let’s do your makeup.” 

So Betty was pushed to the chair, where she expected to hear the dress rip, but it didn’t. In fact, as soon as she was able to get over herself, she was actually able to enjoy listening to Cheryl and Veronica regale her with the story of their last Southside party and a disaster that involved the most expensive bottle of champagne, nail polish, and a broken high heel that caused a riot.

Hopefully her night wouldn’t be as eventful. 


	4. make me wanna say it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story FINALLY has some dirty dancing in it

The blonde, brunette, and redhead walked into the Viper’s Bite, and only Betty felt like a punchline. The room was dark but the lights were sporadically bright. Everywhere was crowded, and everyone was loud. The cold hand of anxiety clutched for her throat.

“This was a mistake,” Betty whispered to herself.

By some miracle, Veronica must have heard her and said, “Don’t be silly!” as she looped her arm through Betty’s. Her friend’s grip firm, Betty let herself get tugged through the throngs of people to the bar.

When she got there, she saw Toni, her pink hair a beacon, sitting at the corner spot. 

“Toni!” She called over the music, and the girl turned around with a grin.

“You made it!” Toni grinned, then rolled her eyes. “I’d offer to get you a drink, but this bartender is a total fucking amateur. He’s just going for the hot girls.” 

“You’re hot,” Betty offered. 

Toni smiled in acknowledgement, but any reply was cut off by Cheryl Blossom saddling up to them. “Grace Kelly's right,” Cheryl announced. “You are _very_ hot.”

Toni licked her lips, “Thanks, you too, Red.” She turned back to Betty. “This gin jockey knows I’m queer, so he won’t serve me because he wants to get laid.”

“I think you should show me a good time on the dance floor instead,” Cheryl insisted, handing out her hand limply like a royal.

Toni raised an eyebrow at Betty, as if to say _is this chick for real?_

Betty smiled and shrugged, as if to say _good luck_.

“Thanks to Blondie over here,” Toni said with a jerk of her head in Betty’s direction as she took Cheryl’s offered hand. “I actually can dance with you. Let’s go, Red.” The two took off for the dance floor. 

“What did she mean?” Veronica asked, taking the stool the Southsider just vacated. 

“Long story,” Betty said, adjusting her ponytail that Cheryl and Veronica insisted needed to be curled. “I really want a vodka soda, do they card here?”

“Let’s find out,” Veronica said and flagged down the bartender, a man in his late 20s. Veronica bent over the counter. “Hey, can I get a gin and tonic, and my friend will have a vodka soda,”

“Anything for you,” He winked and within two minutes, he had both their drinks.

“Must be fun to be hot,” Betty clinked her drink to Veronica’s.

“Like you don’t know, you’re a total smoke show!” Veronica said. “Please, you have such a great ass, I’d hate you if you weren’t so nice.”

Betty blushed under the blush and foundation they’d put on her. She’d drawn the line at contouring, because she could handle only so much makeup on her face at once. 

“Well, if I’m hot, you’re drop-dead gorgeous,” Betty said.

“I know,” She smiled. “Half of it is confidence, babe. Let’s stand here looking pretty until some boys get wise enough to ask us to dance.”

Betty sipped drink and looked around, then started giggling. “Aww, look at Cheryl and Toni!” 

Veronica looked over and smiled at the new pair. Cheryl and Toni were up close and personal, dancing up against each other. “Now isn’t that a cute couple,” Veronica said.

She wouldn’t use the word _cute_ because the way they were grinding up against each other leaned more on the _sexual_ side of the attractiveness scale, but she nodded. “They are.”

“B, you can’t tell the Blossoms about this, do you know that?”

“About going to a Southside club? I figured-”

“No, Betty,” Her tone was firm and cold, a shock so sudden that it caused Betty to recoil. “The lesbian lip lock that’s currently happening. You aren’t to say a _word_.” 

“Cheryl’s not out?” Betty asked. The girl had seemed so confident when the three of them went shopping the previous week, pointing out different saleswomen who were “holy fucking gorgeous.” 

Veronica shook her head. “Her parents would literally kill her. So she’s only out on the Southside. They _never_ keep tabs on anything over on this side of town. Can she trust you to keep this a secret?” 

Betty nodded resolutely, “I wouldn’t betray that confidence.”

Veronica studied her with dark eyes before she beamed, “Perfect!” Then she downed her drink and sighed, with a signal to the other bartender. “Boys are being slow tonight.”

As if she willed it into existence, Archie from the Rose’s Thorn stepped up to them. “Hey, I don’t know if you remember me, but-”

“Archie!” She greeted. “I definitely remember you. I’m Veronica.”

Archie grinned, and he looked oddly boyish in an endearing way. “Hi, Veronica. Would you like to dance?”

Veronica extended her hand, then stopped on a dime and turned to Betty. “Will you be okay?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Betty reassured. “Have fun.”

Veronica gave her a kiss on the cheek, slipped a 20 into her hand, then went off on the dance floor with Archie, and they almost immediately jumped on the sexual side of the scale as well.

Betty hopped on the stool, and paid the bartender. She didn’t need more than one drink. She saw what excessive drinking did to her sister, and had no desire to repeat those mistakes

She turned to the dance floor again. Cheryl and Toni were practically having sex on the floor, with Toni whispering into Cheryl’s ear to the redhead’s pleased smirk. Veronica and Archie were no better as a trashy, pulsating pop song played on the speakers. 

She looked around and saw a vaguely familiar gray beanie and she leaned up in shock.

Off on the other side of the dance floor, Jughead Jones was tearing it up with a dark-haired girl. He was behind her, she facing away, and her arms had pulled up to wrap around his neck as they rocked against each other. 

In a way that was more than sexual, he moved to the beat, his body an extension of the rhythm. She’d never wanted to dance with anyone else so badly. She wanted to revel in his sensuality and align it with her own.

His hair was wet and slightly curled under his cut-into beanie, hot from the club lights and all the gyrating bodies on the floor. His plaid button-down was open and practically draping off his shoulders, revealing more of his serpent tattoo on his amazing arms, and the gray tank top he was wearing was damp with sweat at the chest while his neck shined. Should have been gross, but a primal part of her wanted to lick him and see if he tasted good.

She downed more of her drink and looked away to get her bearings. She was getting ridiculous, but then she turned back to him and saw he was looking at her.

She swallowed tightly, and got a bit weak-kneed when she saw him whisper to his partner and then make his way through the crowd over to her. Thank god she was sitting down or she would have buckled to the floor. 

Not soon enough, he was standing right beside her. He leaned over to say in her ear over the music, “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

She stayed in the same spot to answer, “Toni invited me.”

“Well, then I’m finally grateful to her,” He said and smiled at her, a tilted smile that was pure sex. 

“Do you want to dance?” She asked, even though it was insanely crowded, and that made her anxious. But Jughead’s eyes made that not seem important.

“Nothing sounds better,” He answered, and pulled her to a less peopled spot. “So I know you can dance ballet,” He said as the song “Hey Baby” by Pitbull started to play, the beat thick with energy and sex appeal. The place seemed a bit harder than a pop song from the early 2010s, but everyone on the dance floor seemed into it. “How else can you dance?”

Instead of verbally answering, she turned and pressed her ass to his crotch, a move so bold she’d never felt confident enough to do it before. She swayed against him for a moment, but at the first, _Hey baby girl,_ she ground herself against him. 

His hands, so big, held her to him as she swiveled for a bit and he gave just as hard as she did, but at the first _drop it to the floor_ , she spun around to hook a leg around his waist. His fingers gripped her thigh as she let her hands lean back, letting her body curve as she arched her back, knowing he’d hold her. And he did, hands splayed tight on her hip and thigh, almost like he didn’t want to let go.

She leaned back up and pulled out some salsa moves, not sure he could keep up but he did, matching each of her moves perfectly. He spun her out, and that’s when she noticed that people were giving them space because they were _watching_ them. 

She nearly froze, but then Jughead pulled her back, and when he pressed against her again, she almost couldn’t help her movements as she let the music overcome her. She completely surrendered, and she felt like he did too. And, to her complete surprise (and enjoyment), she thought he was hard against her, but that just might have been his jeans.

When the song faded away, the people in their vicinity clapped. There were so many of them, and only giving them a small berth of room as they got closer to slap Jughead on the shoulder. Everything seemed so much smaller. 

Jughead playfully held up their joined hands. And she nearly fell off her heels as the air started to disappear. So many people breathing the same air, wouldn’t they run out soon?

He looked at her, and her face felt warm. “Let’s get you some water,” He leaned over to tell her, and pulled her through the crowds.

“I’m fine,” She said absently.

“Nope, you look a bit flushed,” He countered as he helped her onto a stool. Now that she was sitting down, she felt a bit dizzy. He easily got the bartender’s attention, “Bottle water.” 

The bartender handed her a bottle, and she sipped some. It instantly soothed her and calmed her escalating heart. She thought she was over her crowd anxiety, but that wasn’t the case.

“Have you been drinking a lot?” He asked her. 

She shook her head. “One vodka soda, it’s just the crowds.” 

“Then why did you go out on the dance floor?”

She shrugged and answered honestly, “Because I wanted to dance with you.” 

“I wanted to dance with you too. But maybe we can pick a locale that won’t make you dizzy next time.”

“Next time?” She quoted back at him.

She expected him to demure or play it off, but he just grinned, “We almost certainly have to do that again, don’t you agree?”

“I agree,” She answered. 

“Wait a moment right here, I‘ll take you home,” He said and disappeared back into the crowd. She sipped her water, and waited. Someone moved beside her and she turned to look.

It wasn’t Jughead. It was a sharp-faced man with dark curly hair and an awful mustache. 

“Hey, I saw you out on the dance floor,” He said as he got in her eye line across from her, leaning in a bit to encroach on her space. “My name’s Malachi, what’s yours?” There was something intimidating about him, and even though Betty was generally anxious, she tried to always trust that feeling.

She pulled her drink slightly closer to her. “I’m Betty.”

“Why don’t you tell me how to get you back out there?” He reached for her bicep.

“I’m not interested, thanks-” She started to say, but he grabbed her arm firmly. She winced.

“Hey,” A voice practically barked and Jughead was back beside her. “Let go of her.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Malachi demanded, and his grip on her tightened, but he was focused on Jughead. 

Then Jughead threw a punch and Malachi’s grip flew from her. She nearly fell after it, since he tried to tug her with him, but someone else grabbed her. She turned behind her and saw Toni, who’s lipstick looked a bit smudged, but the lips curled into a sneer at Malachi. Her hands, soft against her skin, helped her regain her balance on the stool. 

“Hey!” The bartender shouted, and the music cut out, but people were still talking. “No fighting in my bar.”

“This wouldn’t happen if you kept the Ghoulies out,” Someone even taller than Jughead standing behind him bit out. Betty looked around desperately and saw six more people with dark leather jackets joining ranks with Jughead and Toni, as well as two people pick Malachi off the ground. It reminded her of when the Blossoms first visited their hotel room, the divide was staggering.

“I don’t care about your personal bullshit. Keep your fighting out of my bar, or I’ll ban _anyone_ who pisses me off,” The bartender promised.

“This isn’t over, FP Three,” Malachi said, but let his friends pull him away. They seemed to escape out a back door. But her heartbeat only barely started to calm.

“Are you okay?” Jughead asked her.

“Jesus!” Veronica exclaimed as she pushed through the crowd. “It was almost _West Side Story_ in here, you Jets. Betty, are you okay?”

“Jets?” The tallest one said, offended. “We’re definitely the Sharks.”

“Shut up, Sweet Pea,” Toni said, exhaustion dripping from her tone.

“I’m fine,” Betty finally said, but Jughead helped her to her feet off the stool.

“I’m going to take her back to the hotel,” Jughead said. Unlike Malachi’s, his hold on her arm was soft, gentle, seeking permission. She welcomed it.

“That okay with you, B?” Veronica asked with raised brow, as if checking her face for a secret signal.

Betty offered a smile, “Dance with Archie, V. I’m just gonna head to Thornhill. I’ll text you when I get back.”

“You better,” Veronica said, and gave Betty a tight hug before disappearing back into the crowd.

Betty turned to Toni, “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Anytime, girl,” Toni said and extended a hand to rub Betty’s shoulder. “Don’t have too much fun with Jones, he’s wild.”

Betty’s eyes went wide but Jughead scoffed, “Don’t believe the she-devil over there, she lies for sport.”

“For _entertainment_ ,” Toni corrected. “Take good care of my dance teacher, Jones.”

“Yes, Topaz,” Jughead said. As he lead her away, he tapped the boy in the leather jacket who also spoke to the bartender. “Keep an eye out.” She thought she heard him say, but the next thing she knew, she was being led outside.

The parking lot was gravel, but Betty’s shoes had a wide enough base that she didn’t feel like she’d trip. Plus, Jughead was still holding onto her, and she had the distinct feeling he’d catch her.

In the fresh air, which thankfully didn’t smell like stale beer or sweaty bodies, she felt better already, and the dizziness started to ebb. But she still wanted Jughead to take her home.

“So,” Jughead said, clearing his throat. “I realized, albeit a bit overdue, that I only have one mode of transportation.”

Betty’s eyebrows furrowed, “And what’s that?”

Jughead instead pointed behind her, and she turned to see a motorcycle propped up against many others. But the one that was his stood out immediately was the only pure vintage one, and he gave off a vibe of being a traditionalist when it came to vehicles. 

Betty blinked in surprise, “Is that a Honda CB550?”

“Know something about motorcycles?” He asked as they walked over to it. 

She shook her head, “Not as much as I’d like. I’m more familiar with cars, especially vintage ones. But I’ve always wanted to learn more about bikes.”

Jughead handed her a helmet with a quiet smirk, “Consider this a crash course.”

“Maybe ‘crash’ isn’t the best word,” She mocked as she tugged and clicked it on. 

Jughead chuckled as he put on his own helmet, “That’s a fair enough assessment, but don’t indict me until you try it.”

He stripped off his plaid over-shirt and handed it to her. When she just stared at it, he hesitantly explained, “The dress seems a bit short for a bike ride, I thought maybe you’d want to wrap it around your waist.” 

She took the plaid shirt and looked up at his grey eyes thoughtfully, “Thank you.” She pulled it around her waist, and gave a playful twirl. “Wow, this is soft.” She looked back over at him, and could barely tell he had more tattoos than she previously thought, but could just see them in the streetlights, the coloring on pale skin. 

“It’s one of my favorites,” He said. “C’mon, let’s you get back to the hotel.” He climbed on the motorcycle. He turned to look at her once more before she got on as well. “I say this fully aware it makes me sound like some unoriginal sleaze, but I recommend holding onto me.” 

“Well, I might take that into consideration,” She said as she hooked her leg over to straddle the bike. Terrified to the bone Veronica’s dress would rip, she exhaled in pure relief when it barely stretched to accommodate the spread of her thighs. 

Even though it was dark, she did appreciate the coverage his shirt offered, but more so the fact he offered it in the first place.

She wrapped her arms gently around his torso and felt the planes of his stomach and scooted a bit closer, so she could feel the heat emanating from him.

The motorcycle roared to life between her legs and Betty smiled as Jughead took them out of the parking lot. Her mother always forbade her from ever using one, so she reveled in the feeling of breaking the rules and practically riding the air. Just when she thought she was calming down, she was revving up again, this time with adrenaline instead of anxiety. 

He glided on turns, with power and precision that rivaled a surgeon. She held on tight to his waist, her front against his back, a reversal of when they were dancing together. She could feel his stomach under her hands, the soft skin and the hard muscles. It was just as much as a rush as the ride.

She didn’t know what time it actually was when they pulled up to Thornhill, but she was surprised when he drove about a few blocks past it to park the bike.

“Planning on murdering me in the woods?” She quipped as he set the kickstand, even though the thrum of anxiety was starting to kick up.

Jughead expertly maneuvered himself off the bike before taking off the helmet. After adjusting his omnipresent beanie, he extended a hand, “Nah, I just can’t park my bike in front of the Inn.”

“Why?” She asked as she struggled to get off the bike. “Too loud?”

“Need some help?” He checked. When she nodded, he gently grabbed her by the waist to pull her off. “To answer your question, in a way. The workers aren’t supposed to be on hotel property when not on shifts. And especially not with guests.” She frowned as she adjusted the skirt of her dress. 

“Why’s that?” She asked, even as he started to walk her down the block. She tightened his flannel around her waist a bit tighter so it wouldn’t fall. 

“Company policy,” He explained. His gait was so casual but rhythmic, his body type lanky but toned. She wanted to feel him around her again. But friends don’t have those thoughts about friends, so she kept quiet. “We’re not allowed to fraternize with guests.”

“Not even friends?” 

“Nope,” He said, but then turned to her a small smile. “So we’ll have to be surreptitious. Commit some serious evasive maneuvers in order to continue.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind walking all the way back to the club if it meant I got to ride that bike again,” She exhaled in a rush, shaking her hair out a bit in glee, missing the way the wind threw it around for her. 

“So you had fun?” Jughead asked.

“Oh, yes,” She said, clasping her hands in front of her. “That was one of the best machines ever.”

“Do you have a car?” He asked.

She frowned, “I did, kind of. Back in New York, my dad had a car mechanic shop. He’d often buy all these fancy classic cars and repair them to sell.”

“He’d flip cars?” Jughead clarified, then whistled. “Damn.”

“Yes,” She said. “I often helped. There’s something about getting under the hood of a classic car when it’s dirty as all hell, then bookending it when it’s been fixed clean and purrs like a kitten.” She sighed. “It’s amazing.”

“I bet,” Jughead said, and then fell into a companionable silence. 

Betty normally didn’t mind silences, but she wanted to know more about him. If this were a romance novel, she’d want to _fall into everything he was_ or something. But she just drawn to him. No falling. 

“So, where did you learn to dance?” She asked.

“I used to really like music videos. I’m more of a film nerd now, but there’s something about an amazing music video with stunning production design and choreography. I’d find them all on YouTube, and try to teach the dances to myself. Then when I got more into film, I still watched dance movies.” 

“Like _Step Up_?” She asked. It wasn’t her favorite, but she liked it nonetheless. But she couldn’t imagine a boy like the motorcycle-riding, leather jacket-wearing one in front of her being into a Channing Tatum movie that is sentimental and practically plotless, especially after mentioning being a film nerd.

Jughead snorted. “No. I mean, I have nothing against it, but I was talking the big musicals of the 50s and 60s.” 

“Like _Singin’ in the Rain_?” She clarified.

He nodded as they neared the lights of Thornhill Inn. “Yep. Gene Kelly was a dick, but he was talented as hell. I’m also partial to Fred and Ginger movies when it comes to musicals.” 

“I like Cyd Charisse,” Betty said, thinking of her role as the Vamp’s part in the dream sequence. “I always wanted her legs.” Playfully, she kicked her leg out.

Jughead looked down at her lower half, and in the darkness, she thought she saw him lick his lips, but he said nothing. She wondered what he was thinking nonetheless. 

They slowed to stand still outside the gates, and she recalled the fraternization rule. 

“Thanks for walking me,” She said. “And for the ride. That was...” She couldn’t find the words. “Breathtaking.” She settled on the word. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” His lips tilted to a smirk, and her knees went weak again.

“Well, I hope to see you around,” She said.

He shook his head, “I’ll walk you up to your room.”

“Oh but the fraternization rule-”

“Hey, I’m a full gentlemen, I’m going all the way. Like I said, serious evasive maneuvers.” He said, humor glinting in his eyes.

“Well that,” She said with equal humor. “I’ll have to see.”

+

Betty walked to the front desk, seeing a young man in her 30s as the receptionist. She’d seen him around, but had yet to engage him. “Hello, Ms. Cooper,” He greeted, polite enough. “Are you having a good evening?”

“I am,” She said. She folded her elbows on the counter and took a deep breath. “Do you know of any good restaurants in the Southside of Riverdale?” She kept her eyes wide enough to look innocent. 

The polite look died in his eyes as his face fell into a sneer. “No, I’ve never been,” He answered.

“Really? Just like a whole other half of town?” She furrowed her eyebrows. She felt fingers tickle the back of her knee and had to bite back a giggle.

If she looked down, she’d see Jughead army-crawling sneakily across the blood-red carpet of the Thornhill Inn. It was a blessing that the hotel was empty except for the lone receptionist. 

“Have you heard anything?” She beseeched him. Her friend probably needed another half a minute at most, if the receptionist could just give her something. “I’m just looking for a pizza place. Do they have pizza?”

“No.” His response was curt. 

“Is that a no to hearing anything or no to them having pizza?” 

He did not respond. Just stared. 

She was about to muddle her way through another attempt before she heard the elevator ding. “Well, thanks,” She said quickly, and ran to the elevator. 

Inside, pressed against the wall out of the way of prying eyes, Jughead smirked at her. “Restaurant tips?”

She fell against the wall too, just to see the smile it spread on his face. “It seemed innocuous enough,” She laughed breathily as she pressed the fourth floor button. Only when the doors closed did Jughead finally relax, pushing off the wall to stand closer to her. 

“Even the elevator is bougie,” He said with fake reverence, and as the doors closed on them, she laughed.

They filled the elevator with their mirth as they raised quickly to the fourth floor. The two of exited, still giggling as they walked the lush, carpeted hallways.

Betty stopped in front of their hotel room. “Well you did it,” She said. “You’re a full gentleman.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” He said. 

“Maybe about your espionage abilities,” She laughed, tilting her head. It had been so long since she’d wanted to flirt with someone. How did you silently tell someone to kiss you? Did you just do it yourself?

Jughead’s eyes darted down to her lips, and they suddenly felt dry so she licked at them. Was it her imagination, or was he leaning down?

“Thanks for the dance,” She whispered.

“Anytime,” He said, and gently and softly, he pressed his lips to hers.

Immediately, she reciprocated, her lips pressing back. One of her hands fell to his shoulder, and the other reached for the nape of his neck, to the small black curls that hid under his beanie.

One of his hands found her waist once more, and it anchored her to both the moment and the memory of them dancing. His other hand cupped her face.

She was afraid her tongue had atrophied, but when he introduced that element, it was pure instinct as they danced together. 

It was only when her leg hooked around him did they fall off balance, and they landed against the wall, falling apart before almost falling to the floor. Just barely, she bumped her head as they righted themselves.

“Shit!” Jughead hissed softly as he went to touch her head gently like he was looking for an immediate bump. “You okay?”

She nodded, “I’m fine.” It was breathy and husky, like she was a 50s starlet. She cleared her throat. “Um, thanks.” What was the appropriate response? _Your tongue makes my knees weak? I want to do that all the time? Please, kiss me right now I don’t think I can go another second without it?_

“You’re welcome,” Jughead said, then winced and looked towards the ceiling. “That was- I mean…” He took a deep breath and finally locked eyes with her. “I really enjoyed that. I just- I don’t normally do this,” He said this in a murmur, because he was still in her personal space. She didn’t want him to leave.

“I thought that was my line.”

He chuckled and dropped his hand, in a sweet way that didn’t make her feel small or anxious. Just in a way that made her smile too. “I don’t hook up with people after dancing with them at clubs.”

“Me neither,” She offered. 

“I don’t really hook up with people at all.” 

“Me neither,” She said, and then she reached over to let her fingers trace over his hand before holding it. “We don’t have to do anything. I just hope we do it again eventually.”

“Dance or make out?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“Both,” She said definitively.

“We definitely can, Betts,” He reassured, and then he leaned down once more. This time his kiss was soft and quick. “I’ll see you around.”

He started to walk down the hall. To ground herself, she held her stomach and felt the familiar hunger pangs, but there was something else too. A feeling in her chest that made her feel hopeful, as moronic as that sounded. 

As he loped around the corner, her hand fell down to her hips and she felt his flannel. 

“Wait, Jughead!” She called, a loud whisper. 

He turned back around. 

She untied the plaid fabric, “Thanks for this.”

“You keep it,” He said. “Looks good on you.”

And with that, he disappeared, leaving her with the flannel shirt and a blush on her cheeks. 

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think and I'll try to update soon!


End file.
